


the long road

by lionsenpai



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-19
Updated: 2014-11-19
Packaged: 2018-02-26 06:18:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2641265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lionsenpai/pseuds/lionsenpai
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When they find the Inquisitor, there's less of her to save than there are parts of her missing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the long road

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Yollm](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yollm/gifts).



> Inspired by a comic floating around tumblr about Inquisitor Adaar falling into the hands of the Qunari--and what they do to her because she's a mage.

When they find the Inquisitor, there's less of her to save than there are parts of her missing. 

 

Sera rips the curtains away from the tent, the red orange light of the evening spilling across the hard packed earthen floor and stacked crates of chains and horseshoes. The tent is cowhide like the others and smells of leather and iron, but instead of qunari, there are only supplies arranged in neat rows. Blades glint from within the shadows, and Sera rushes in bow-first, ready to sink an arrow through whatever's waiting for her. 

The qunari there don't even look up. Shackled at the rear of the tent among racks of longswords and morningstars, two of them kneel in the dirt, their wrists bound behind their backs to their ankles. Cassandra comes to a halt to Sera's right, Vivienne falling in at her left, steel and magic bared, but when they see the creatures, they stop as Sera has. 

"Monsters," Cassandra hisses under her breath, and even Sera knows she's not referring to the masked kossith before them. 

They sink into the darkness, as much a part of it as the crates and items they are stored with, and between the two of them, the only things that differ are their hair. One's pale white hair twists into a long braid disappearing into his heavy collar, but the woman next to him has no hair at all, scalp still raw from the recent cut. The sutures around her lips ooze pus and are crusted with dried blood, swollen where her counterpart's are not, and there's a thin, pale scar a the corner of her mouth--

Sera's hands tremble, lips parting in a sudden inhale. Her blood runs cold, sweat from the fighting like ice against her skin, and she can't breathe, her chest full and aching. She drops to her knees before her, casts her bow aside, and runs her unsteady hands along the stumps of her horns, the cold iron of her mask, her stitched, chapped lips.

" _Herah?_ " 

There's nothing but darkness between the slits in her mask, and she sits bowed and broken, like a bow snapped in two, all the strength and tension stripped away. 

Herah had laughed the last time Sera had seen her and bared her teeth in a fearless grin. Now she sits motionless as Sera runs her thumbs over the angles of her face searching, searching, searching for some flicker of life, some sign it's really her. The only life in her is her pulse, slow and methodical. 

Somewhere behind her, Cassandra curses under her breath. 

"The control rod," Vivienne says softly. "Find the control rod."

Sera barely hears them over the sound of her own heart. She touches Herah's lips, cups her face. She gropes at the mask and finds the snaps of fabric hanging from the stumps of her horns. It clatters to the ground, but Herah's eyes don't rise. They are pits, dark pupils not even flicking up to look at her. 

"Look at me, love," Sera whispers, running her fingers over the base of her horns. "We're here to rescue you."

Herah only blinks, unmoved. 

Tears prick at Sera's eyes and the dagger is in her hands without her even realizing. She points the tip at the first of the stitches across Herah's mouth, but her hand shakes so much she's afraid to make the cut. Vivienne's warm hands pull the knife away gently, and she's kneeling at Sera's side, her beautiful face sharp and serious. She runs her fingers over Sera's knuckles. 

"Allow me?" she asks, tapping the back of her hand. 

Sera blinks and looks away, wiping her eyes. Vivienne takes her dagger when she offers it, and Sera chokes, "Steady hands now."

Her breath comes stuttering and weak, her world widening from the Inquisitor's blank expression. Cassandra moves through the tent, kicking aside racks and upending boxes, her eyes gleaming as dangerously as her sword. She curses when she stumbles and turns on the cowhide tent with her blade, slicing lines in the canvas and letting more light bleed in. 

"There," Vivienne says, touching Sera's shoulder. 

Vivienne presses the dagger's hilt back into Sera's hand, and she tucks it away instinctively, looking back to Herah. The thread is gone, but its absence brings fresh blood welling up from the marks. Sera wipes it away gently with her thumb, and at Vivienne's suggestion, they dabble drops of red poultice over Herah's mouth, cleaning away the excess with the hem of Sera's sleeve. 

"Don't worry, sweet thing, we'll have you right soon," Sera says, and it makes it easier to believe. "Hold on now just a little more."

Sera strains and stands and hefts the collar from around Herah's neck while Vivienne joins Cassandra, and while the two of them scour the tent, Sera kneels behind Herah and works at the locks of her bindings with a pick, talking to herself and to Herah and sometimes even the other kossith. They won't leave him either, she decides as Cassandra gives a yell. 

The manacles fall from Herah's wrists, and Cassandra nearly topples a stack of firewood getting back to them, two golden rods in her shield hand. 

"Here," she says, breathing hard and presenting them to Vivienne. "These are them, right?"

"Yes. We only need to overload the rod," she says. She glaces at Sera and Herah, kneeling side by side, and then looks to the male kossith. "But if it's his, he may..."

"Quit your gabbing and  _break_  the damn things!" Sera snaps, looking to her Inquisitor. Her eyes are dull, but the warmth can't be gone forever. It  _can't_.

Vivienne nods quietly and the rods ice over in her hands, shattering as she closes her fingers around them. Herah and the kossith jerk at the same time, and Sera is almost too slow to catch the Inquisitor before she falls to the ground. Her arms hang loose at her sides, and Sera heaves and pulls Herah back toward her, cradling her massive form against her smaller one. Herah's head rests against her shoulder, and her eyes flicker up briefly, something sparking within them. Her lips part, but nothing escapes but air. 

"Herah?"

Her eyes close before Sera can stop her, her swollen lips parted. Sera's stomach turns in on itself at the sight of her tongueless mouth.

Beside her, the qunari mage rises unsteadily, grunting softly. He glances around, shadows like ink against his grey skin, and raises his hands before him. Sera watches him turn them over, closing and opening them like it's the first time he's ever done it on his own. Glancing at the shattered control rod, she realizes it might be. 

"We mean you no harm," Vivienne says, calm and soothing, so motherly, but it doesn't soften the sight of Cassandra baring her steel. "You're free now."

The qunari turns his gaze on her and drops his hands to his sides. He doesn't smile, doesn't frown, doesn't rip the stitched from his mouth or even grunt. He's simply quiet, his eyes hidden behind his mask. Then he raises his arms and the air within the tent ignites, spitting flames. Vivienne throws up a ward, but the qunari pulls the fire onto himself, his arms outstretched, expressionless as his skin cracks and blisters and burns, melting away like wax until all Sera's eyes water from the intensity of the heat, choking on every breath. She can  _smell_  him burning, nearly taste it. 

"Maker!" Sera cries, falling forward, Herah still in her arms. She huddles over her and hears Cassandra spit a curse, Vivienne a spell.

The heat disappears in an instant, whisked away by the crisp smell of ice magic, and it's nearly dreamlike when Sera touches her own face and then glances over her shoulder. 

His skin is half melted, bones charred black where they show, but where the fire didn't consume all, his flesh is touched with frost, frozen white. Chunks of ice creeping up to his shins keep him standing, his arms gnarls of burnt flesh and icicles. The worst part of it all, the part that makes Sera's stomach clench with a final spell of dizzying nausea, is that he looks nearly at peace, iron mask melting down the sides of his face.

"He--" Sera whispers. "He offed himself! He bloody offed himself!" 

She looks down at Herah, limp and unresponsive beneath her, and nearly chokes on her fear. 

"She won't--she ain't gonna do like him, will she?" She touches Herah's face. "Burned himself. Just like that."

Neither Cassandra nor Vivienne can tell her she won't, and Sera clutches Herah close to her, bowing her head. She could wake, could make herself into a pyre, and what could Sera do to stop her? Shoot her with an arrow? A helpless sob slips from Sera's lips. 

"We should... Make preparations to be safe. It could be an ingrained response to the control rod breaking." Vivienne is at her shoulder, touching the back of her neck lightly. "We can't be ready for that here, Sera. We need to get out of this camp."

Vivienne's right. She knows she is, but it still takes all of her to hold in her stuttering breaths, to straighten and help Cassandra lift Herah. She hesitates, unsure when Cassandra takes the Inquisitor, arms looped over her shoulders, feet trailing the ground, but when Sera sees her bow, it's instinct to bend and pick it up, and the feel of the wooden groves and taut string make something click within her. 

Together, she and Vivienne turn on the ripped tent flap, bursting out into the camp and startling the crows who have already descended upon the carnage. The qunari were battle-born, well bloodied and well organized, and so their camp fell slower than most, bodies strewn across the whole of it, blood soaking into the earth. Their cookfires had still been burning when they stormed the encampment, and now they merely simmer, cinders all that remain. 

Sera wishes they'd missed a few. Her bow arm itches, and her arrow might not be able to save Herah, but it can certainly fill the bastards that did this to her full of holes.

They didn't bring the wagon. Their mounts are tied off beyond the camp's clearing--theirs and Herah's too. She was supposed to ride back with them. 

"I'll mind her horse," Vivienne says, taking the reigns. 

Cassandra struggles beneath Herah's weight, but with help, she manages to climb atop her own horse, a big, powerful destrier that has the best chance of carrying them both, and drags Herah up after her, settling her in front. 

"Careful now," Sera murmurs, touching Herah's knee. 

Cassandra gives her a stiff nod and then pulls at the reigns, giving her horse a gentle kick to spur it on. 

Sera leaps atop her own mount, but doesn't shoulder her bow. She pushes her horse to a trot to catch up with Cassandra, and rides right along side her, so close she could touch her. The going is slow between Cassandra's overtaxed mount and Vivienne's two steeds, but Sera doesn't notice the sun sinking into the horizon anymore than she notices the landscape crawling by around them. Every tree is much like the last, every twist in the path nearly identical, but Herah garners all of Sera's attention just by being there. 

Her hair had been so gorgeous, Sera finds herself thinking. It was dyed red-orange and bark brown, twisted together in her long braid. They'd cut it because it hadn't been the normal white, but as to why they cut her horns, her  _tongue.._. She has to look away, nausea spiking in her gut again. 

Camp is a grove of trees, their tents hidden amongst the twisting branches, fire long since cold and dead. It's dark by the time they arrive, the sliver of a moon hanging high above them, light slipping through the leaves. Sera dismounts in silence, and both she and Vivienne have to help bring Herah to the ground, her body still as limp as before. 

"We're here, love," Sera whispers to her, wrapping her arms around her middle. 

They drag their bed rolls out beneath the stars, agreeing to take turns watching for qunari and for Herah to awaken, and even though Cassandra gets the first shift, Sera settles right against Herah, draping a hand over her chest to feel the rise and fall. She doesn't sleep, but if she closes her eyes, Sera can imagine there's nothing wrong with Herah, that there's nothing to fear. 

She shifts in closer, face by Herah's ear, and murmurs, "Don't burn, you daft thing. Don't burn or I'll--I'll..."

The worst part is Sera doesn't know what she'll do. 

Sera's watch is after Cassandra's, but she looks up before she even touches her. Shadows gather beneath Cassandra's eyes, on her cheeks. She looks gaunt, exhausted beyond measure. She slinks off to her own bedroll after Sera sits up, but she tosses and turns so much Sera is sure she can't have slept a wink. 

When it's finally Vivienne's turn, Sera feels the weight of her exhaustion. She blinks and nearly nods off, so when Vivienne rises and tilts her head in her direction, Sera curls up against Herah and traces the line of her jaw until she's crosseyed. Finally, Vivienne speaks low and sure. "Try to sleep, Sera."

All it takes is for her to close her eyes for more than a moment, and she succumbs to sleep's hold. 

Her dreams are feverish, full of fire and heat and darkness. She stumbles blindly, the flames licking away at her, and when she tries to scream, she her mouth won't open. She touches her face, fingers fumbling, but her lips are stitched closed, sealed forever. She claws at the threads, but her hands melt away, and she falls to her knees, the heat all around her, choking her, burning her skin like paper. 

Through the pain, a voice tells her, "It's time."

She wants to screams, wants to cry that she doesn't understand, that she needs help, but she can do no more than grunt and moan. 

"It's time," the voice says again, and this time, Sera recognizes it. Herah is with her, but she can't see her. She only hears her repeat, "It's time, it's time, it's time."

Sera jerks awake. The air tingles with magic, and her hair stands on end, blinking away the blurs of color. 

"Herah," she murmurs, looking down at the Inquisitor, still feeling the heat on her skin from the dream. 

Beside her, Herah blinks, staring at the purple pink sky with dull eyes. Sera leans over her, searching for some sign that she's alright, that she's back, that she won't... Herah's brown eyes flicker toward her, and for a moment, her expression doesn't shift, doesn't change. Sera can hear her pulse in her ears, feel her chest ready to explode from the pressure, but then Herah touches Sera's hand lightly, her eyes softening. Her lips part, but then she remembers--painfully--and pulls her hand away, touching her lips instead. 

Sera doesn't know where the tears keep coming from. They well in her eyes, and she bends down and kisses the crown of Herah's bald head, murmuring thanks against her skin, feeling the sobs tear themselves from her throat. 

Herah doesn't try to move away, doesn't try to speak, but she reaches up and sets her hand on Sera's shoulder and closes her eyes, letting out a quiet breath. 

There's nothing to say, no words that are worth even half a damn, but Herah is  _alive_ , and the taste of her skin is sweeter than ever. Sera doesn't lift her head, and Herah doesn't drop her hand, and the world grows brighter and warmer as the sun rises above them.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm hurting Adaar before I even have the game and no one can stop me.


End file.
